drive_through_rx (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
drive_through_rx) wrote2009-05-19 06:30 pm
drive_through_rx) wrote2009-05-19 06:30 pm
Entry tags:
This is a Sickbay, Not a Daycare Center (Star Trek, Kirk/Spock, PG)
Title: This is a Sickbay, Not a Daycare Center
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing: very, very light Kirk/Spock
Rating: PG
Word count: 845
Notes: Someone on the kink meme asked for cutesy de-aged fic. I couldn't help myself. *facepalm*
"I swear, it wasnae my fault," Scotty says for the seventh or ninth time. McCoy stopped counting around the same time the little blond boy on the diagnostic table kicked him in the knee.
"I don't care whose fault it is, just get out!" he finally yells, and Scotty shuts up so fast his teeth click, gratefully taking the chance to get the hell away from the agitated doctor and the newly pint-sized captain and first officer. McCoy sighs and runs a hand through his hair, swearing he can feel it thinning by the moment.
"Raising your voice is illogical," Spock pipes up from the next bed. He's sitting cross-legged, head on his hands, watching McCoy run a scanner over the wriggling and uncooperative Kirk. "You promote negative emotions from those around you, and you are all terrible at restraining emotion."
"Even as a kid, you're a know-it-all," McCoy mutters, finally pocketing the scanner. "Well, you're both healthy. God only knows how we're going to get you two back to normal."
"Does that mean we can go?" Jim asks hopefully. His hair is lighter, as a child, but the mischievous blue eyes are exactly the same. "I wanna check out the ship!"
"I would also be amenable to examining the Enterprise," Spock adds, and McCoy rolls his eyes.
"I'm a doctor, not a babysitter," he mutters to himself. "I refuse to escort a couple of six year olds around, even if you are my commanding officers."
"Doctor, I assure you we will not need supervision," Spock says placidly, hopping off the examination table and coming up between Jim and McCoy. "I will keep Jim from causing trouble."
"That's what you think," Jim says cheerfully, sliding to the ground and looking up at the doctor with pleading eyes. "Come on, let us go? Please?"
This was a bad idea... but McCoy figures that as long as they don't remember their command codes, there's only so many places they can go. "G'wan, get out."
"Yes!" Jim pumps a little fist in the air and grabs Spock's hand, prompting both the Vulcan's brows to lift as he is hauled forward. "Bye, Bones!"
Oh yeah, McCoy thinks as he goes into his office to find his flask, that was probably a bad idea.
---
"Oh no, you aren't allowed up here, honey." Uhura snags Jim by the back of his shirt, stopping him halfway to the captain's chair. "You're off duty until Doctor McCoy clears you."
"But... Uhura, it's my ship!" Jim stomps a foot petulantly. At the helm, Chekov and Sulu stifle laughter behind their hands, discreetly watching. Chekov is the first to notice Spock also attempting to take his station, climbing up onto the chair so he can see the panels and readouts.
"Ah, no, Mr. Spock. Same for you as the Keptin." The teenager walks over and lifts Spock out of the chair, grinning. "I am defensive of my place as youngest genius on the ship."
"You are both incorrect and illogical," Spock pipes up, turning to glare at Chekov as soon as his feet hit the floor. Looking over from his building tantrum, Jim's face flickers through annoyance, surprise, worry, and settles on anger; he tromps over and kicks Chekov soundly in the shin.
"Leave Spock alone, you jerk!" Swearing in Russian, Chekov gives them both a bemused look before limping back to his seat and smacking the laughing helmsman on the arm.
"Is not funny," he gripes, while Sulu continues giggling. "Keptin is a brat."
"That's it, you two are getting some time out," Uhura declares, steering both the boys to the turbolift. "How'd you get out of sickbay anyway?"
"Bones let us go." Jim's hand is firmly wrapped around Spock's, and though he doesn't pay any undue attention to the touch, Uhura notices the Vulcan's frequent glances down at their joined fingers. Huh.
"Well, I have a few things to say to him."
---
"...not a babysitter!" McCoy finishes up his tirade of why he let the de-aged Kirk and Spock loose. Uhura rolls her eyes and shakes her head.
"Doesn't matter. You're the CMO, this is a physical and health related issue, you get to play daddy or delegate downward. I have to get back to my post." With a flick of her ponytail, she left, and McCoy was left to shake his head at nothing.
"Goddammit." They stuck the kids in McCoy's office while they 'discussed' who would be taking care of them, and he fervently hopes that nothing has been knocked over, broken, or otherwise messed with. What he finds is entirely unexpected.
Curled up together on the cot against the back wall, Jim and Spock are taking a nap. Their foreheads press together; one of Jim's hands is spread out over Spock's ear, and Spock's hands are fisted in the front of Jim's oversized shirt.
"Well, I'll be damned," McCoy murmurs to himself, and quietly opens his desk drawer for the camera stashed inside. This is too priceless not to spread to the entire crew, regardless of the consequences.
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing: very, very light Kirk/Spock
Rating: PG
Word count: 845
Notes: Someone on the kink meme asked for cutesy de-aged fic. I couldn't help myself. *facepalm*
"I swear, it wasnae my fault," Scotty says for the seventh or ninth time. McCoy stopped counting around the same time the little blond boy on the diagnostic table kicked him in the knee.
"I don't care whose fault it is, just get out!" he finally yells, and Scotty shuts up so fast his teeth click, gratefully taking the chance to get the hell away from the agitated doctor and the newly pint-sized captain and first officer. McCoy sighs and runs a hand through his hair, swearing he can feel it thinning by the moment.
"Raising your voice is illogical," Spock pipes up from the next bed. He's sitting cross-legged, head on his hands, watching McCoy run a scanner over the wriggling and uncooperative Kirk. "You promote negative emotions from those around you, and you are all terrible at restraining emotion."
"Even as a kid, you're a know-it-all," McCoy mutters, finally pocketing the scanner. "Well, you're both healthy. God only knows how we're going to get you two back to normal."
"Does that mean we can go?" Jim asks hopefully. His hair is lighter, as a child, but the mischievous blue eyes are exactly the same. "I wanna check out the ship!"
"I would also be amenable to examining the Enterprise," Spock adds, and McCoy rolls his eyes.
"I'm a doctor, not a babysitter," he mutters to himself. "I refuse to escort a couple of six year olds around, even if you are my commanding officers."
"Doctor, I assure you we will not need supervision," Spock says placidly, hopping off the examination table and coming up between Jim and McCoy. "I will keep Jim from causing trouble."
"That's what you think," Jim says cheerfully, sliding to the ground and looking up at the doctor with pleading eyes. "Come on, let us go? Please?"
This was a bad idea... but McCoy figures that as long as they don't remember their command codes, there's only so many places they can go. "G'wan, get out."
"Yes!" Jim pumps a little fist in the air and grabs Spock's hand, prompting both the Vulcan's brows to lift as he is hauled forward. "Bye, Bones!"
Oh yeah, McCoy thinks as he goes into his office to find his flask, that was probably a bad idea.
---
"Oh no, you aren't allowed up here, honey." Uhura snags Jim by the back of his shirt, stopping him halfway to the captain's chair. "You're off duty until Doctor McCoy clears you."
"But... Uhura, it's my ship!" Jim stomps a foot petulantly. At the helm, Chekov and Sulu stifle laughter behind their hands, discreetly watching. Chekov is the first to notice Spock also attempting to take his station, climbing up onto the chair so he can see the panels and readouts.
"Ah, no, Mr. Spock. Same for you as the Keptin." The teenager walks over and lifts Spock out of the chair, grinning. "I am defensive of my place as youngest genius on the ship."
"You are both incorrect and illogical," Spock pipes up, turning to glare at Chekov as soon as his feet hit the floor. Looking over from his building tantrum, Jim's face flickers through annoyance, surprise, worry, and settles on anger; he tromps over and kicks Chekov soundly in the shin.
"Leave Spock alone, you jerk!" Swearing in Russian, Chekov gives them both a bemused look before limping back to his seat and smacking the laughing helmsman on the arm.
"Is not funny," he gripes, while Sulu continues giggling. "Keptin is a brat."
"That's it, you two are getting some time out," Uhura declares, steering both the boys to the turbolift. "How'd you get out of sickbay anyway?"
"Bones let us go." Jim's hand is firmly wrapped around Spock's, and though he doesn't pay any undue attention to the touch, Uhura notices the Vulcan's frequent glances down at their joined fingers. Huh.
"Well, I have a few things to say to him."
---
"...not a babysitter!" McCoy finishes up his tirade of why he let the de-aged Kirk and Spock loose. Uhura rolls her eyes and shakes her head.
"Doesn't matter. You're the CMO, this is a physical and health related issue, you get to play daddy or delegate downward. I have to get back to my post." With a flick of her ponytail, she left, and McCoy was left to shake his head at nothing.
"Goddammit." They stuck the kids in McCoy's office while they 'discussed' who would be taking care of them, and he fervently hopes that nothing has been knocked over, broken, or otherwise messed with. What he finds is entirely unexpected.
Curled up together on the cot against the back wall, Jim and Spock are taking a nap. Their foreheads press together; one of Jim's hands is spread out over Spock's ear, and Spock's hands are fisted in the front of Jim's oversized shirt.
"Well, I'll be damned," McCoy murmurs to himself, and quietly opens his desk drawer for the camera stashed inside. This is too priceless not to spread to the entire crew, regardless of the consequences.